


Persuasion

by brighteye



Series: The Rise and The Fall [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, mercykill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brighteye/pseuds/brighteye
Summary: Angela Ziegler, head of surgery and creator of the revolutionary "healing stream", is approached with a proposition by Overwatch agents. Not enthused with the methods of Overwatch, she turns them away. This only causes them to get more persuasive.





	Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. This is my first work on AO3 (so please be gentle). I don't know exactly how these tags/warnings work, but I'm going to try my best to make them as accurate a possible across various stories I plan to post in this work.
> 
> This was something I came up with after reading (several) Mercy / Reaper stories. While (spoilers) there isn't much on that in this particular chapter / section, there will be further along, so I beg you for patience and for your reviews (good or bad!).

“Paging Dr. Ziegler to OR 1. Dr. Ziegler to OR 1.” Angela sighed but dutifully changed her trajectory from the canteen to the nearby elevator that would take her down the two floors necessary to reach the operating rooms. She had known when she had taken the promotion to head of surgery that it would be a lot of work – she’d already been _doing_ a lot of work – but she hadn’t realized how little time she had available to her own research. She had to schedule surgeries, shifting them around as more life-threatening cases arose, as well as surgeons to take them; she had to oversee the surgeries when some rookie or otherwise nervous surgeon just _wasn’t sure_ and wanted another set of eyes, which she didn’t begrudge and completely understood, even as it frustrated her; she had her own patients that required her attention, whether they were high-priority cases for public relations or her own personal cases from before her promotion; and then there was the non-stop _meetings_.

But she had just had a major breakthrough, using nanotechnology to enhance the healing process. Aside from broken bones and foreign matter, wounds that would take weeks to heal could be treated in a handful of days. This technology could even be used to help heal treatable illnesses and disease, and minimize the symptoms in many terminal diseases. Aside from one allergic reaction to a placebo and mild nausea, her newest breakthrough had passed the clinical trial with glowing results. Soon it would be used in all major hospitals – starting with her own – to help others. She was so happy she had nearly cried; after all her hard work, she was finally making a difference. People would be saved, would live their lives with their families, because of her work. Due to the way it was applied, they had started to call it the “healing stream”.

Angela stepped off the elevator, white lab-coat billowing behind her as she hurried her steps. She wasn’t sure how urgent the case was, but she needed to get food in her before the _next_ surgery that she had promised to observe and then she had rounds after that. She wasn’t sure when the last time she ate was, but she knew that food needed to be in her immediate future. She paused to look at the chart outside the operating room so that she had an idea of what she was walking in on. It was an emergency surgery that she had cleared just this morning; a man had come in with several gunshot wounds. Nodding to herself, she put the chart back and opened the door.

She shed her lab-coat in the room just outside the operating room, hanging it carefully on a hook designed just for that, before scrubbing herself clean. Tugging on a pair of gloves, she strode into the operating room. There was a man sedated on the table with several splotches of red on his abdomen.

“What seems to be the problem?” Angela asked, striding confidently up to the table. Just another day at work, but this man would survive. Between her and the surgeon that called her, they would get this man back on his feet.

\---

Angela leaned back in her chair, eyes closed and one hand rubbing her temple. She absolutely _loathed_ budget meetings. There were so many things that they needed, but due to financial constraints they had to manage with less. She understood that – money made the world go around and money paid her bills (and her staff) – but it was no less frustrating. What was even more frustrating was that the meeting had gone thirty minutes over and she was now late for her rounds. She knew she needed to get back to it, but she was taking just a minute to compose herself. Five minutes later, she scooped up her notes and exited the conference room, and hit the elevators. At the fifth floor she headed left, her heels _click click clicking_ as she sped towards her first patients room.

She entered Lilian Graves’ room forty minutes behind schedule, but she was all smiles and apologies for running behind. Lilian was looking good – her vitals stable and her sutures clean – and would probably be going home soon. However, a few minutes into her conversation she noticed her assistant, Samuel, hovering outside the door. She cut the conversation short and assured Lilian she was doing well and Angela would definitely see her tomorrow.

She exited the room backwards and closed the door soundly before turning towards Samuel. Before she could even begin to formulate words, she noticed the two strangers flanking him. They had no business on this floor, hovering outside one of her patients’ room.

“Dr. Ziegler, these men were looking for you.” Samuel said, ducking his head as he saw the steely look in her eyes, but continued valiantly. “They wanted to speak to you about your breakthrough.”

“Then these _gentlemen_ can make an appointment like everyone else.” Angela replied coolly. She knew she needed to talk to them – and everyone else who wanted to see her – about her technology, but they _had_ to make an appointment. Her days were already struggling to follow the structure she was trying to apply to it without random strangers appearing to make it that much harder. “Now, if we’re finished here, I have patients to tend to.” Angela turned to walk away, but a firm hand on her elbow stopped her.

“We’re not asking for a lot of your time, doctor.” The blonde on Samuels’ right spoke, his very posture screaming that he was in charge, though it was the dark-eyed man on Samuels’ left who held her. “My name is Jack Morrison and this is Gabriel Reyes. We’re with Overwatch, and we are extremely interested in your work.”

Overwatch. At first she had thought they were a great idea. They would establish global peace and the horror that was the Omnic Crisis would never happen again. Families wouldn’t be torn apart by war like hers was. She was glad that their world had come far enough that they could have a global task force dedicated to such a noble cause.

The reality was much less grand. Overwatch soldiers were still fighting, still killing, and innocents were caught in the crossfire all too often. However, not much was being done to stop the “collateral” damage from what anyone could tell. Sure, Overwatch was doing some good – they stopped wayward omnics and had stopped a dictator here and there – but too often this resulted in bombs or large strikes that killed more innocents than guilty. More families and friends were being torn apart as soldiers fought and died, renegades fought and died, and innocents in the crossfire just plain died. It wasn’t right and an organization dedicated to peace such as Overwatch should have done better.

“I have no intention of dealing Overwatch while they are bombing cities and killing innocents.” Angela growled, jerking her arm out of Gabriel’s grip. “Samuel, please escort these men out.” She stalked off down the hall, searching for her next patient, as the two agents stared after her thoughtfully.

\---

A week later she walked into yet another meeting. This one had been created suddenly by her boss, though he wouldn’t provide any details on what, exactly, the meeting was about. Her eyes on a chart in her hand, she didn’t look up until the door clicked shut behind her. When she saw the blonde Jack Morrison sitting at the conference table, she turned to walk right back out. However, Gabriel Reyes, tall and intimidating, was at her back, keeping her from exiting the room.

“Dr. Ziegler, how kind of you to join us.” Jack said from his seat behind her. She could just _hear_ the smirk without looking at the man. They had so easily caught her in their trap. She glanced around the room briefly and spotted Samuel and her boss, an overbearing man with cold eyes named Marcus Thompson. Of course they’d go over her head to her boss when she failed to give them what they wanted. Marcus wanted her to patent and sell the technology off to the highest bidder, and who would be better than the famous Overwatch?

“Mr. Morrison, Mr. Reyes; how… _nice_ to see you both again.” Angela skirted to the side of the imposing man so that she could see both of them. If they were surprised that she had remembered their names, they didn’t show it.

“If you would be so kind as to have a seat, Angela?” Marcus asked, standing at the table. “This shouldn’t take too much of your time.” The good doctor closed her eyes briefly before moving forward to take a seat at the table across from Jack, a smile plastered to her face. She’d had plenty of practice smiling, even when she’d rather be doing anything but, so it looked rather believable.  Marcus took a seat next to the blonde, while Samuel took a seat next to her in solidarity. She glanced back at Gabriel, but found he was standing with his arms crossed in front of the door, as if afraid she might bolt at any moment. It was a fair assessment, seeing how she had dismissed them the last time they’d spoken.

“Dr. Ziegler, I know you’re a busy woman so I’ll cut straight to the chase. We’d like to offer you a position within our organization.” Angela stared at the man as if he’d grown two heads, while Marcus sputtered next to him.

“You what? You said you wanted to speak to her regarding her research!” The man said, his face flushing in anger at the deceit.

“It is in regards to her research that I am offering this position.” Jack regarded the man calmly, before turning his attention back towards Angela. “Your nanotechnology is nothing short of miraculous. Overwatch is looking for bright scientists and researchers to help make this world a better place. Your knowledge and skills would be an enormous asset to our organization.”

Overwatch wanted _her_. They had seen her worth in the research she had performed and the technology she had created, and they deemed her worthy. She knew that her response to them originally had been rather hostile, but it was nothing but the truth. Overwatch was an organization that butchered people in the name of peace, and she could not stand with them. Not while they dropped bombs in cities to root out terrorism, and instead of killing terrorists they killed innocents.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must decline.” Angela responded, clasping her hands before her. “I am a doctor that wishes to protect people, not kill them in air raids.” She heard a sharp intake of breath behind her, but she kept her eyes locked on the blonde before her.

“Then this meeting is over; Angela has given her answer.” Marcus spoke quickly in the ensuing silence. He clearly didn’t want his chief of surgery going elsewhere, even if it was to a prestigious organization such as Overwatch. The sooner they left, the sooner they could get back to work and put this nonsense behind them.

“You want to protect people, but you won’t help the organization dedicated to doing just that?” Jack responded incredulously.

“Need I mention the bombs again? You’ve killed countless innocents in the name of _your_ peace!” Angela shot back. “How many families have been killed? How many children lost parents, siblings?” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, as if looking for patience, when a cool voice behind her spoke.

“You want to help people? Take away their pain and cure them of disease?” Footsteps, and then Gabriel comes into view on her left.

“Of course I do! Why else would I have created the healing stream?” Angela glared up at the dark haired man, who just stared back with arms crossed.

“Then Overwatch is where you need to be. Yes, I _know_ ,” He cut her off before she could start talking again, “about your opinion on the way we stop terrorists. Our methods are an unfortunate necessity, but they _were_ a necessity. You don’t know how many days we get locked in meetings with risk assessors about the way we stop these people, but it wasn’t an easy decision.” He put one hand on the table and leaned down towards her. She leaned back, trying to keep space between them. “Overwatch is making a difference and we have a chance for real, lasting peace. Medicine is one of the many ways we are trying to help people, and you are the best choice. Help us, Dr. Ziegler, so we can help the world.”

She could tell he meant every word, that he truly believed that Overwatch could make a difference. That _she_ could make a difference, if she was willing to look past what Overwatch had done and see what it could do.

“We could get any doctor in the world, but the truth is we need you, Dr. Ziegler. Your intelligence and innovation, paired with other great minds, can make a great difference in the world.” Jack said, and her focus turned from the man looming over her to the blonde that sat calmly across the table. She sat silent, for once at a loss for words, and glanced between the two men that were as different as night and day – and yet they both held the same conviction about Overwatch.

“We know this is a big decision, and it shouldn’t be taken lightly. We’ll contact you in a week for your decision, doctor.” Jack said after the silence had stretched to the point of discomfort. The blonde stood from his seat across from her and made his way to the door. “We appreciate your time, doctor.” Gabriel remained hovering over her, though his right hand was rummaging through his pocket.

“This has my contact information on it. Call – or email – any time and I’ll answer any questions you have.” The man said smoothly as he offered a business card. Once she had accepted the card, the men left and the door closed behind them with a soft _click_.

“You can’t seriously be considering their offer, Angela! Your job – your _life_ – is here. You’re not a hero or a soldier; you’re a doctor with patients here, in the real world. Let them fight their battles elsewhere!” Marcus declared, trying to reel her back to his hospital. She was a promising doctor and their hospital was lucky to have her, and he’d be a fool if he let her go without a fight.

“You’re right, Marcus. I’m not a soldier. I’m a doctor, and I have patients.” She responded, placating him even as her mind whirled.

What if she _could_ make a difference? What if she could save the innocent with her research, on the front lines like her parents? What if she could be the one that saved children from the heartbreak of losing a parent?

What if she could be a hero?

\---

“This is Reyes.” A cool voice, with no hint of annoyance or anger at being bothered at eleven thirty at night, answered her call. She had agonized over calling him all day, until it had even affected her work. She sent herself home at eight when it was obvious she wasn’t going to get anything done and had returned to her apartment. There, she had made lists – lists about the good and the bad of Overwatch, the pros and cons of her joining them, of what questions she had to ask – and thought.

“Mr. Reyes, it’s Dr. Ziegler.” She responded, sitting on her sofa with an orange and a cup of tea. It was later than she had intended to call, but she had gotten wrapped up in her lists. She would have put it off until tomorrow, but she didn’t think her work could handle another day like today. Then again, being a nuisance so late at night might give her more information.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, doctor?” The man responded easily, and she wondered if he was naturally up late or if he was used to phone calls waking him. It was probably both, given that he appeared to be a person of importance in the organization that was courting her.

“I had a few questions, if you have the time. I know it’s rather late.” Angela responded before lifting the cup to her lips and sipping.

“I will always have time to speak with you, doctor. What are your questions?” He responded smoothly, and she wondered how true his words were. After – no, _if_ – she accepted this position, she doubted she would see the man again. He was a salesman, trying to get her to buy their product. Even if she was bothering him – and she was certain she was – he wouldn’t let on.

“I wanted to know what, exactly, I would be doing if I were to accept your offer.” She responded. It had been the most pressing concern of hers. She didn’t want to be relegated only to research – which was where they appeared to value her most. Her passion lay in helping people, in medicine, and while research would definitely help multiple others, she was a doctor. Giving up that part of her would be akin to cutting off a hand.

“We want to make you the head of our medical research. You’d get to decide what we need to focus on and how we need to go about it. Funding and tools will not be a problem, given that you are reasonable in your requests.” The man responded easily. She paused, not expecting such an answer. She knew they wanted her knowledge and skills, but she had expected to be under another senior researcher, not to _be_ the senior. Not that she was incapable – she managed the surgical staff of her hospital as well as balanced her own research and patients – but it was a surprise.

“I am still a doctor, Mr. Reyes.” Angela responded slowly. While the offer was _extremely_ tempting, regardless of the organization – that, if she was honest, was becoming less terrible the more she considered it – she still needed to be a doctor. She still needed to treat patients and work in surgery. It was who she was and what she needed.

“Of course. While you would be the head of research, that need not take up all of your time. You can create projects and delegate – or take point yourself – at your discretion. You will be the head of a much larger team for you to manage. You can still see patients and tend to the wounded if that is what you wish. We want you to be comfortable, but more importantly we want you to be happy, Dr. Ziegler.” Gabriel replied earnestly. His enthusiasm was somewhat infectious, but she held herself firm.

“In what capacity would I be allowed to see patients?” She queried, hoping that his enthusiasm wasn’t bleeding into her voice too much.

“In whatever capacity you want. Honestly, you’re the best doctor the world has seen in a long time. Whatever it is you want, whatever you need, it’s yours. You need only ask. If you want to be the head doctor, it’s done.” There was no desperation in the mans’ voice, only conviction. This was not false flattery and praise; Overwatch wanted – and needed – a person of her skill. She sat quietly on the phone, listening to him breathe as he waited for her next question and her mind raced.

They were offering her anything she wanted – and all she ever wanted was to help people. She could make new tools to save people, to lessen the blood that stained Overwatch. She would be given everything she needed to make her dreams – their dreams of peace – a reality. All she had to do was take that first leap of faith, the terrifying plunge into an organization whose methods she still wasn’t certain of.

“Doctor? Are you still there?” He asked, concern in his voice.

“I’m still here.” She whispered.

She could be a hero.

She could keep others from suffering her fate.

All she had to do was take that first step.

“I accept your offer.”


End file.
